


Fall Back

by lethargicshadowlover



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Banter, Colleagues - Freeform, F/M, ShikaTema, Trust exercises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24929926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lethargicshadowlover/pseuds/lethargicshadowlover
Summary: After a handful of Konoha employees are transferred to the Suna branch, team building is enforced in the form of trust exercises. Two members of the team, however, are decidedly dissatisfied with this arrangement.[Written for ShikaTema Week 2020, Day 1 - Trust Exercises]
Relationships: Nara Shikamaru/Temari
Comments: 9
Kudos: 30





	Fall Back

**Author's Note:**

> warning, this one is even more out of whack and all over the place than my other entry, but I hope you enjoy

“Can someone please explain to me how this bullshit is going to help me sell more cables?” Temari huffed as she fidgeted, swivelling her desk chair back and forth rapidly, and crossed her arms tightly across her chest.

As far she could tell, she wasn’t the only person to have such an opinion, and while a half-day was welcomed in her books as much as anyone else’s, spending the second half of that day playing along with managerial nonsense wasn’t sitting quite as well with her.

Eyebrows raised, she cocked her head to one side. “Gaara, surely you can see how pointless this is, can’t you?”

From his position beside the meeting’s paper board, her brother—and as of recent times, boss—bit down on his lip. “It’s procedure, Temari,” he said sternly. “It comes from higher up than me.”

“Who exactly is higher up than you?”

“The owner.”

She tutted, and tried to ignore the scowl on her brother’s face. It was obvious he knew she was right, to some extent at the very least. The reason he’d gathered every member of the branch together was obvious, but it still didn’t seem worthwhile. After the transfers they received from the Konoha branch, there were more fresh faces around than ever, but Temari didn’t see the need to engage with them anymore than she had their former counterparts. Her job was to sit on the phone, call and convince, and she was good at it. No amount of team building or trust exercises with the people from production or packing was going to make her any more proficient at her job.

It was times like these she envied Kankurō and his forward thinking to escape from the company the minute their father sold it, but here she was three years later, wrapped up so deep into its values and processes to a point where leaving just felt stupid. “You’re integral to the team,” she had been told, but what team that was she wasn’t sure. When it came to sales it was every woman for herself—Temari had learned that the hard way—and falling back into Karura from HR’s arms wasn’t suddenly going to boost the commission on the next Kumo transaction she made, so why should she care?

“Surely the owner doesn’t care as long the cable gets sold,” a voice she barely recognised pointed out from behind her.

She spun her chair to see a man leaning against the threshold of the back office, a creased shirt tucked into his jeans, and couldn’t help but tut to herself. Of course _this_ _guy_ , who couldn’t even be bothered to even iron his shirt that morning, had a problem with the exercise. Not to mention, if he was in _there_ , he was part of the finance and accountancy team—an immediate np-go in Temari’s opinion. Never had she met a person from that back office who hadn’t made her yawn less than five minutes into a conversation, and she couldn’t imagine this scruffy newbie would be any different.

However, as much as she wanted to disregard him as useless, she couldn’t help nodding in agreement as she turned back to Gaara. “Exactly. And how am I going to sell more cable by doing trust exercises with someone like that?” Her thumb jabbed behind her, listening to the chuckles that echoed around the office. “Some loser from accounts isn’t going to help me butter up Mr. Uchiha next week, is he?”

Gaara tapped his pen patiently against his palm, undoubtedly waiting for his sister to say something even more brutal to the man behind her, but when it didn’t come and she merely smirked victoriously at his silence, the redhead plastered a kind smile across his lips.

But it wasn’t kind, Temari could tell. She’d known the man long enough to see through the shell to the intent within, and there was no doubt in her mind what he was about to do.

“Alright.” The word alone held a sense of finality as Gaara began, tearing the lid off the marker in his hands. “Shikamaru, is it?”

There was a pause as his eyes went straight behind Temari’s head. Her blood boiled as she saw him nod in response to whatever the man behind her had done, a vicious glare shooting towards Gaara.

“Wonderful,” he continued. “Shikamaru, would you mind partnering up with my dear sister? Only, I feel she could benefit greatly from it.”

Temari hopped to her feet, scoffing as she turned to the scuff-ball behind her. “I don’t think so,” she grumbled. “You better say no.”

The man, Shikamaru, lifted his hands defensively as she stormed towards him. “I want to do this about as much as you do—probably _less_ ,” he chuckled. “So, why don’t you just stop being troublesome and just do as you’re told?”

It was as though he thought he was reasoning with a moody teenager, and Temari did not appreciate the tone one bit. Hence, when he crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows, she couldn’t help but curl her lip. She couldn’t understand how after being on her side of this argument only a moment prior, his motivations had switched so rapidly.

“What happened to just needing to sell more cable?”

Shikamaru shrugged his shoulders and let out a great sigh. “I can’t be bothered to argue with your brother—I know I won’t win. Besides, we’re better off just doing as he says quickly so we get to go home early.”

Temari’s eyebrows furrowed to a point. Somehow, as he looked down at her like this, the chatter of the room dulled down to mumbles. Gaara addressed the rest of the staff in the same came and commanding tone, and each person muttered or chuckled when he singled them out and partnered them up, but Temari couldn’t bring herself to listen. There was something in the way he didn’t cower at her intimidating stare, like so many did, that didn’t let her take her eyes off of him. It was as though she was desperate for him to shrink down, just to prove to herself that she was still capable of making men curl into themselves with her vibrant eyes.

But he wasn’t budging—he didn’t care. In fact, Temari found it difficult to interpret if he cared about anything at all. His appearance was a definite _no_ on that front, given the tattered sneakers at his feet, the wild black hair and those infuriating creases. As a perfectionist it was near-on impossible for Temari to look at that, and she decided that no shirt at all might be just as appropriate as something as blatantly uncaring as what he had on.

However, he unfortunately had a point. _Maybe it’s a blessing that he doesn’t care_ , she wondered. After all, if he couldn’t care less what came of this he likely wouldn’t get frustrated if she wandered off, or if she only completed her parts of these supposed trust exercises properly. Temari hoped she could just wash her hands of this nonsense _and_ this man within the next half hour.

“Fine,” she spat, extending her hand. “Temari.”

He took it, shaking it much more firmly than she ever would’ve anticipated before flopping back against the doorframe. “Shikamaru,” he returned with the most pathetic attempt at excitement she’d ever seen across his eyes. “Shall we just get this over with then?”

With an amalgamation of eagerness and utter resentment, Temari nodded her head. “Fine.”

* * *

Shikamaru stared at her outstretched arms, blinking rapidly. “No.”

“ _You’re_ the one who said we should just get it over with quickly.”

“No way—I take it back. You’ll fucking drop me.”

Temari’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“I said, you’ll drop me,” he repeated.

“I trusted you to direct me through some obstacle course thing _blindfolded_ , yet you don’t trust me to catch you?” She clapped impatiently and beckoned him toward her. “Come on, crybaby, just fall back. I would”

“I’d catch you. It’s different the other way around.”

“Why cause I’m a woman?” She spat. “Does that make me _weak_ or something? Because you can get fucked if you think I’m going to stand here and take—”

Shikamaru laughed. “As if,” he scoffed. “You could knock me out cold.”

“Damn right I could.”

“No, you’re just one of _them_ , aren’t you?”

Her eyes narrowed as she processed his words, and carefully lowered her arms to her sides. “And that’s supposed to mean what?”

He shrugged. “You’re a salesman. It’s not historically a _trustworthy_ profession, is it?”

There was a subtle but undoubtedly menacing twitch of her nose.

“Saleswoman?” Aware his attempt at correction would do him no favours, Shikamaru immediately bit down on his lip, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Just listen, Temari: you must know you haven’t got the best track record.”

“ _I_ haven’t got the best track record?”

He gulped. “The general ‘you’. I mean all sales…salespeople.”

“Have you not seen my numbers, smart-ass?”

“Woman, I’m not questioning your numbers, I’m just—”

“Temari!”

Their heads whipped around to see Gaara looming a few metres away. His bright eyes looked as exhausted with the whole ordeal as Shikamaru felt, and he couldn’t blame his boss for being so fed up with the two of them.

“It wasn’t me, it was _him_ ,” Temari hissed, like a child bickering with her parents. “He won’t do it, Gaara.”

Gaara sighed. “Don’t shout, just encourage nicely.”

She balled a fist and prepared a step forward, clearly deciding that the man was foremost her brother before her boss, but Shikamaru quickly grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. He could feel the tightness of her muscle loosen as she unclenched her fingers, and could only just spot from the corner of his vision the way her eyes darted towards him.

“My fault, sir,” he admitted, dropping her wrist. “Ignore us.”

Somewhat unconvinced, Gaara stepped forward with a gentle nod. “If you say so,” he said slowly. “Go ahead then.”

Shikamaru gulped, turning his attention back to the blonde beside him. Her arms were stretched out as they had been before, but her eyes now held a worrying amount of animosity. This hadn’t been something he’d had faith in from the start, and that look wasn’t doing his nerves any favours. Still, unwillingly, he turned his back to her and took a deep breath as he let himself fall back, only to find himself safely—if that was the right word—in her grip.

“See?” she whispered menacingly in his ear. “Trust me.”

He was almost ready to smile and thank her when he felt her forearms disappear from beneath his armpits and his butt crash down on the floor.

“Temari!” Gaara scolded again, rushing to help up their fallen colleague.

The scolding was pointless, however. Shikamaru saw nothing but pride in her eyes when she smirked at him rubbing the base of his spine. He heard Gaara mumble something about an icepack as he whisked away, but the young man was too focused on the cheeky glint of her expression to register the pain.

“If you think I’ll trust you _now_ , you’ve got another thing coming.”

“What a shame you couldn’t leave your stereotypes at the door.” The sarcasm was crippling, and Shikamaru was ready to snarl.

“It’s a good job we aren’t on the roof or I’d drop you three storeys onto your arse,” he warned.

“I still wouldn’t cry as much as you look like you’re about to.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” he scoffed. “You’d be dead, love.”

“You’ll be dead in a minute if you—” Temari stopped as her brother turned the corner into the conference room, icepack and paper towel in hand, and feigned a smile. “So, Gaara,” she asked, narrowing her eyes at Shikamaru, “what’s the final exercise?”

* * *

His hand rested on the small of her back as they climbed the stairs. They’d already made it two flights and had just one more to go, which was easier said than done when one of you was blindfolded and kept tripping with every other stair. Every other pair had been forced to play some stupid drawing game—something Temari would’ve hated just as much as she sucked at—but even that would’ve been better than what Gaara had forced them to do for their behaviour.

“I hate him,” she growled. “Not only is this not helping me be good at sales, isn’t it also a huge health and safety hazard? We could fall and die and it would be entirely your fault!”

Shikamaru snorted beside her as though such a thing wasn’t so bad, and she yearned to tear away the cloth covering her eyes so he could realise quite how angry she was. Temari didn’t get why it had to be her who was blind—this was his fault for not complying earlier, and for insulting her profession without a second thought. It should be him being guided up the stairs, though chances were she’d push him down them if he even opened his mouth. Gaara would be getting the silent treatment for at least a week, no question.

Temari huffed and a jolt of fear surged through her body as her toe collided with the edge of a step. She almost squealed at the sudden pressure of Shikamaru’s forearm instantly pressing against her stomach, and almost swatted him away, but couldn’t help the overwhelming sense of relief that her nose hadn’t just crashed into the concrete.

She had to admit that the sensation of his fingertips on her back was calming, and the knowledge he wouldn’t let her fall despite everything else was even nicer. Still, that didn’t make her feel any better when, for at least a minute, the pair remained completely still. She felt no change in pressure, heard patter of feet; pure silence filled the stairwell, and suddenly Temari’s chest grew tight.

“What are you doing?” she asked tentatively. “Whats wrong?”

His forearm moved away, and his hand slowly withdrew from her back. A shudder flew across her shoulders. She hated being without control; this blindness was a nightmare with someone she _did_ trust, let alone a man who’d said moments earlier how he would throw her off the roof.

“Shikamaru?”

There was a grumble as he seemingly fought with his sleeves, the rustle of cotton rubbing against itself driving her crazy.

“Say something, idiot!”

“Just be quiet and don’t struggle.”

Within an instant he had swept her up, hooking her arm behind his neck and his own in the crook of her knees. Temari gasped at the feel of his skin touching her thigh, and felt herself squirming to get out of his grip as he began to climb, angered by the nerve the guy to do something so stupidly invasive. “What the—put me down!” she yelled, whacking the back of his head.

“You’re too much trouble just walking. You keep falling over.”

“You could’ve just taken off my fucking blindfold! You didn’t need to carry me!”

The grunt of acknowledgement told her he hadn’t thought of such an easy fix, but instead of continuing to writhe awkwardly in his arms, she held tighter and tugged up the fabric covering her eyes. It was too tight to pull away completely, but she gained a slither of light for her efforts, and craned her neck to try to peer down her nose—desperate to see.

“Stop wriggling!”

“No! _Put me down_!”

“We’re almost there, woman—chill out!”

As his footsteps quickened, Temari couldn’t help grabbing back onto his neck and holding tightly in anticipation for being dropped when they reached the top, but when they came to a halt, he simply sighed and carefully lowered his arms until her bare feet touched the floor. A relieved sigh escaped her lips. _Thank god I didn’t keep my heels on._ She knew she would’ve immediately tripped and fallen if she had. That was, if she hadn’t already impaled the moron she’d climbed with them first.

Much to her displeasure she heard a door open, and the tiny bit of light she’d managed to salvage lead her towards it nervously. “Thank fuck _that’s_ done,” she heard him mutter. “Remind me to never take part in your brother’s troublesome schemes ever again. I’m not cut out for this shit.”

There was a repetitive clicking followed by a pause and a sigh. The smell of smoke drifted toward her, and Temari growled from deep at the back of her throat. With both her hands now free, she wrestled with the knot at the back of her blindfold. “You’re not allowed to smoke on the roof, Shikamaru.”

“You say that as if you have experience with such an activity.”

Temari chuckled, and immediately halted the sound when she heard him return the same. “I hate you.”

“God job our desks are ten metres apart then.”

“Not far enough.”

“You’re right—I should move back to Konoha pronto.” There was a pause, followed by another cloud of smoke hitting her in the face. “I take that back, I should stay.”

“Why? To make me suffer?”

There came that chuckle again—why was it starting to sound nicer, more comforting, with every passing moment? “Partially,” he said, “but also the novelty of how warm it is hasn’t warn off for me yet.”

Temari felt herself smiling as she tugged loose the first of the three knots Gaara had tied this damned thing with.

“Do you want a hand with that?” she heard him ask.

“No, I’m fine.”

“You’re struggling.”

“I’m a grown woman, Shikamaru. I can undo a knot.”

“I really don’t think you can; you’re tugging on the same piece on either side.”

“I can do it!”

“Stop being stubborn; let me help you.”

“No, let me—”

She couldn’t finish the sentence. Her throat shut tight with adrenaline as the ball of her foot skidded on the dusty ground, the only noise she could make a faint squeak as she felt herself falling back in slow motion.

But a smoky cloud grew stronger, eventually engulfing her as Shikamaru captured her in his arms. “I got you,” he whispered, a little too gently for Temari not to shiver, but she recognised the attentiveness of his palm as he lifted her upright.

As she caught her breath the panic dwindled a little more with each second, and her lack of sight left the smell surrounding them all the more pungent as he fiddled with the knots at the back of her head. Although there was a large part of her that couldn’t stand it—him lingering so close—his ashy breath tickling the loose hairs against her neck didn’t feel nearly as uncomfortable as she expected it to. In fact, when he let the fabric drop and the bright light of the afternoon stunned her for a moment, Temari was grateful that he hadn’t moved away before she’d had time to adjust. Instead he was still right there, inches from her face, bearing down on her with dark eyes filled of worry.

“You alright, klutz?”

Temari nodded, annoyed as her cheeks grew hot at the sound of his soft voice. She could see a smile start to spread across his kind face. All of a sudden—while it was definitely still aggravating—it didn’t seem so abrasive. He just seemed understanding, as though his priorities for life lay beneath messy hair and creased up shirts, somewhere it mattered a whole lot more.

“What?” she asked, painfully aware of the corners of her own lips creeping up to mirror him. “What’s so funny?”

“You being a damsel in distress,” he chuckled. “It doesn’t suit you in the slightest.”

“I didn’t _need_ you to catch me.”

“You caught me.”

“And then dropped you,” laughed Temari, her stomach flipping for some reason when he joined in. “I wouldn’t have caught me if I was you.”

Shikamaru shrugged as he stepped back, his hand reluctantly pulling away. “Well, I _said_ I’d catch you,” he sighed. “I guess my word’s just more reliable than yours.”

“As if!”

“Can I trust you not to tell on me for smoking on the roof?”

Temari’s smile phased into an impatient pout, but beneath it she felt her brain whirring with excitement. “Don’t push me down the stairs on the way back and you’ve got a deal.”


End file.
